


Very Basic Gardening Manual for Absolute Beginners

by readythefanons



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fair warning dedue only puts in an appearance at the very end, Fluff and Angst, Gardening, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25745020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readythefanons/pseuds/readythefanons
Summary: “Hello. It’s me, Dimitri. I’m the one who planted you, and I water you too.” Dimitri sighed. The book,Very Basic Gardening Manual for Absolute Beginnerswas rather strange, but it had advised that he do this in the section titled "Talk to your plants (yes really)."In which Dimitri talks to his plants, expresses an emotion or two, and eventually gets the boyFor the FE3H kinkmeme
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 26
Kudos: 94
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Very Basic Gardening Manual for Absolute Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> For the FE3H Kinkmeme. The prompt (https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2422856#cmt2422856) is a bit long, but in summary: Dimitri is growing flowers for his crush and starts talking to them to help them grow. It’s a bit awkward at first, but then he realizes that opening up to them was a great idea and starts to vent about anything.
> 
>  **Caveats/content notes:** angst+fluff. Like... there's a happy ending, but also Dimitri has Stuff to work through so there's a little bit of, uh, suicidal ideation (which I think is fair to say is pretty canon), so please take care of yourself.  
> Also, references to the genocide at Duscur and a subsequent ongoing cultural genocide. It's not a focal point, but it's referred to. Again, please take care of yourself.  
> Last and least, I took a few liberties with plant biology, so botany nerds better watch out too.

“Hello. It’s me, Dimitri. I’m the one who planted you, and I water you too. I…” Dimitri sighed. The book had said speaking to his plants would help them grow, but it simply felt unnatural. He already spent enough time trying to ignore the shades of the dead. Surely talking to something that wasn’t even human-shaped was absurd beyond measure? And yet.

The book, _Very Basic Gardening Manual for Absolute Beginners_ by TK Veron, was rather strange. However, the binding was unusually sturdy, and the pages were unusually tough. Veron, in a short section at the very back of the book, had explained that the book had been constructed thus _‘to better stand up to dirt, water, getting stepped on, and the other accidents that can befall a gardening manual.’_ Within the book, there were sections with titles like ‘So you want to grow some plants’ and ‘Physical materials you will need (and some you don’t need but are nice to have)’ and ‘Misconceptions about plants.’

“I’m the one who will be taking care of you. I’ve never done this before, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do a good job, but I will try. So. Please do your best to grow,” he finished awkwardly.

_Some people believe that plants lack awareness of their surroundings. Don’t believe it! If you watch a field of flowers for a day (an activity I highly recommend), you will see them turn their faces to follow the sun. If your potted plant falls on its side, its stem will curve and reach skywards, not continue out sideways. Just because plants lack eyes and ears, don’t think that they don’t pay attention to their surroundings. I will return to this topic in the section ‘Talk to your plants (yes really).’_

\---

“Good evening,” Dimitri said awkwardly. “It’s me again, Dimitri. We spoke yesterday.” He sighed, slumped on the ground next to the stupid dirt. The seeds hadn’t even sprouted yet, and he was here talking to no one. Sweet, merciful Goddess…

“Today’s weather was fair. It got warm in the afternoon, but there was a steady breeze throughout the day. There were several types of clouds: some high, wispy ones, and some lower, fluffy ones. The fluffy ones moved very quickly because of the wind.” 

_Don’t worry if it feels strange at first! Chances are, you’ve never talked to plants before, so of course it feels strange. If you can’t think of anything to say, start simple. Introduce yourself, talk about the weather, maybe tell your seeds about the local weather and lay of the land. The important thing, in the beginning, is to spend a little time every day getting familiar with your plants._

“Sylvain thought it was too hot, of course. Sylvain is my—” _Friend?_ “Classmate. He is from the far north, where winters are harsh and summers are short. He overheats easily. Of course, Dedue is from almost as far north as Sylvain, and he is fine in all weather.” Oh, right. The plants wouldn’t know—Dimitri cleared his throat. “Dedue is my—vassal.” The word grated on his tongue. “He is—he is the reason.” No. “He is a gardener, one much more skilled than I. He loves plants, and looks very peaceful when he works in the greenhouse. You’ve probably seen—well, you know what I mean—him before, he’s in here almost every day. But he comes in the daytime, and I.” Good lord, he was babbling. “He loves plants. If you, if I need help tending you, I’ll ask him for help.” 

It seemed wrong to tell the plants about Sylvain and Dedue and not any of the others. Dimitri managed to make his stumbling way through descriptions of about half the Blue Lions before his voice became uncomfortably rough from overuse.

“… I’ll finish telling you about the others tomorrow,” Dimitri sighed. It was. Much later than he thought it was going to be. “Good night. Grow well.” 

\---

“Dedue told a funny joke today,” Dimitri said. “I don’t think anyone else heard it. We were watching a brawling demonstration the professor arranged for us, and one of the knights had this, I don’t know how to describe it, his hair went up like this?” Dimitri made a gesture in the air above his head, kept talking. It was possible that he often told the plants about what Dedue did that day.

“...anyway, it was a lot funnier when he said it,” Dimitri finished some time later. He sighed, stared at the soil which still appeared empty. “I hope you sprout soon. I know I’m not supposed to try to rush you,” the book was very clear on that, “But I’m looking forward to seeing you. Talking to the dirt makes me look—” crazier than usual—“rather eccentric.” Not that anyone had seen him. Dimitri was sneaking into the greenhouse at midnight for a reason. “But Dedue said that you grow slowly. That’s why you’re—why you symbolize constancy and, and patience.” Devotion, actually, was the word he’d used. The plants didn’t need to know that. “Take all the time you need. I really don’t mean to seem like I’m pushing you to grow faster. But you might as well know that I’m looking forward to meeting you, when you’re ready.”

\---

_I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: plants can be pretty tough! If you sit down to talk to your plants, and you’re just not in the mood for light and breezy topics, that’s okay. As long as you’re not being cruel to your plants, they can handle whatever you feel like telling them. Plants literally thrive off of bullshit (my editor would like me to clarify that I mean manure); they won’t wither and die just because you admitted that today was not a good day. And, dear Gardener, plants won’t try to fix you or change you or give you advice. They just listen._

“Tomorrow is Glenn’s birthday. I haven’t decided if I should tell Professor Byleth.”

Glenn’s shade watched Dimitri. He watched Dimtri a lot, of course, but a lot of them seemed to wander off when he was talking to his plants. It could have been worse, Glenn’s shade. Today he looked as he had in life: long hair, wavy like his father’s; Fraldarius nose and brow; strong jawline that was all his own. The days when he looked as he had after Duscur were much, much worse. Dimitri made himself look away from the ghost and focus on his garden plot instead.

“Felix is especially prone to outbursts on anniversaries. It might be good if the professor is forewarned, but to do so requires me to reveal something quite personal for Felix without his permission. I know he would never tell the professor of his own accord, at least not ahead of any kind of incident.” Dimitri looked up at Glenn, thinking that perhaps the ghost could offer guidance for once, but—oh, Glenn had changed. He was. He looked. 

Dimitri looked back down, stared at the brown earth and gray stone. He did not look at his hands, and he didn’t focus on his breathing. That his body was whole and functioning was not a comfort.

“Oh,” he said aloud. “You—you sprouted.” He bent forward, focused on the hint of green. Two perfectly round leaves were barely peeking out of the soil. He stared at them, just—looking. They were small and impossibly fragile ( _what was he thinking, involving himself with_ fragile, _growing, living things? Trying to coax new life into existence when all his skills went in the opposite direction?_ ) but they were definitely, unquestionably, miraculously alive. From his new, closer vantage point, he could see other hints of green. There, another pair of perfect little leaves. Here, just the edge of one. Next to it, something pale green—a stem? “Oh, you, you did it,” Dimitri breathed. “You are—growing. Well done. Very well done. I hope you—I’m—grow well, and strong. Well done.” Dimitri stared at his little garden plot for a long time, counting and re-counting every bit of green he could see.

\---

“Dedue is hiding something,” Dimitri whispered to his plants. There were more sprouts now, some that were a few inches tall and some that were still barely peeking out. Once they started to sprout, they really went for it. It was kind of incredible, actually. Ordinarily, Dimitri would have commented on it by now, but—“He denies it, but he’s hiding something from me.” 

Dimitri sat on the greenhouse floor and stared at his plants. They were so green and sprightly, it really was impressive. He stared at their perfect, delicate stems and their perfect, glossy leaves as he laid out the evidence that Dedue was avoiding him.

“And of course, it’s _okay,_ he deserves to have his own life. Sometimes he acts like he doesn’t, like he only—but that’s! And I’m glad he and Ashe are getting along, I really am. But I don’t understand why he’d lie to me about who he was spending time with,” Dimitri says. “That’s what really—what I don’t understand. Why lie?” His plants, true to form, said nothing. Well, fine. _Be_ that way. 

\---

“Dedue surprised me with a special meal,” Dimitri told his plants. “It was—there was special tea, and he cooked, and it looked amazing, and it was just the two of us, and afterwards we went for a ride in the forest. He said I seemed distracted lately, and he wanted to do something nice for me.” Dimitri was this close to flopping on the ground next to his plants. “He’s so good. He’s so good. I don’t deserve a friend like him. I don’t deserve—anyone like him.” Eh, actually, Dimitri had no dignity left to lose. Anyone who thought he did was probably delusional or blinded by their own expectations or something equally not Dimitri’s problem. 

He laid on the floor next to his garden plot, his face next to his seedlings. “He’s good at so many things! He can cook, he can ride, his plants look so healthy they could probably enlist in the army, he can sew without breaking anything, he’s _kind_ —” Dimitri groaned in frustration. “And his shoulders, Goddess and all the Saints, don’t let me say a thing. They are. I watched him bend down to pet a courtyard cat while he was carrying a full cask of spirits. _A full cask._ His muscles—” Dimitri covered his burning face with his hands, which were icy as always. For once, it was good. 

\---

Dimitri’s assignments occasionally sent to him to the greenhouse outside his usual midnight visits. Sometimes he saw his fellow students there. He rarely came upon his classmates speaking to the plants they tended, but there were a few.

Annette sang to the plants as she watered them: little, rambling ditties about sun and water and, for some reason, fireworks.

Mercedes spoke to them in a low, gentle voice about the grace of the Goddess.

Ashe talked to his plants as he might to a baby, all cooing and encouragement. He’d blushed, red and blotchy, when he’d realized Dimitri was in the room.

“It’s okay,” Dimitri had said, feeling awkward. “I understand.”

“You do?” Ashe asked, still red as the zinnias he was watering. 

“The breath from your lungs has heightened levels of car-bon-die-ox-ide,” Dimitri recited, “Which is one of the components plants use to create their food.”

“...Yes?” Ashe said.

“It helps them grow faster,” Dimitri finished awkwardly.

“Yeah, that’s what I was taught growing up,” Ashe said. “Talking to plants helps them grow.”

“Exactly,” Dimitri said. Ashe was looking less embarrassed, at least. Dimitri did what he came here to do—deliver a parcel to the greenhouse keeper—and left, feeling thoughtful.

He’d been speaking to his plants for some time now, but it was not—not like Ashe. Is that how he was supposed to do it? The flowers Ashe had been cooing over were already in full bloom and looked enviably healthy. His own plants were—well, in truth, they seemed fine. But they were small, not as developed as Ashe’s plants.

Dimitri reminded himself that the seeds he’d planted were slow-growing. Constancy, dedication, commitment. He breathed in, held it, let it out. 

Unusually, he felt calmer.

 _A note on love: you don’t have to love your plants at first, or even at all. As I’ve written this book, I have tended to make the assumption that you do, or will, love your plants. This is because, dear Gardener, I love my plants. Plants require sunlight, water, air, nutrients, and care._ Care _, not love per se. It is the gardener’s care—your time and attention—that allows you to see when the plants need pruning, or when they have aphids, or even when it’s time say goodbye. Many times, the care gardeners give to their plants is born from love of the plants themselves, but if you care for your plants for another reason, that’s okay too. I apologize, sincerely, if the lovey-lovey rhetoric of this book has made you feel out-of-place. Caring for your plants differently does not make you a faux gardener, and it certainly doesn’t make you inferior. Even if your treatment of your plants seems quite cold from the outside, they will know that you care._

\---

_The F-word: Failure. Sometimes, plants die._

“Felix said today,” Dimitri began. Stopped. Sighed. Glenn’s shade was absent, likely visiting his brother. Dimitri’s father stood silent watch. “I was just going to get some extra lance practice in. Felix was there. He called me a boar, told me I was a monster, all the normal things.” Dimitri sighed. The greenhouse was very quiet tonight. “He said that the Dimitri he used to know, the one who was his friend, died at Duscur, alongside his brother. I—if he _knows_ that, why does he—? He is right, but he doesn’t know it.” Dimitri fell silent, gazed at his plants. They were getting tall, with branching stems and lacy leaves. He leaned towards them, breathed. The foliage itself had a scent, something green and almost spicy. It was stronger when the leaves had been handled, but Dimitri didn’t trust himself not to damage them right now. He could still smell it, if he got close enough. He let the scent fill his head as best it could.

“Sometimes I think I did die at Duscur, and the fact that I still have to—eat, breathe, pretend to be alive, it’s all such _bullshit._ The boy I was _died,_ but I still have to put up with all this crap? Why?” His father’s ghost was frowning, shaking his head. Its arms were crossed. Dimitri’s shoulders hunched. He forced his eyes to remain on his plants. Delicate, graceful, impossible. “It feels like a punishment. Dimitri _died,_ so why can I just rest? I’m not asking for peace, I just want to—to stop. Just for a while.” He sat, in the greenhouse, and his heart continued to beat, and his lungs continued to take in air. Regardless of how he felt about the matter, his body was continuing to sustain itself.

“It sounds ridiculous, like something out of a tawdry play, but I really do think a version of me died that day. There was a Dimitri with a family and friends, and—they don’t exist any more, so he can’t either. Instead, there’s just me.” He stared sightlessly at the plants. “Felix was right, but he doesn’t know it or can’t know it. His friend died, and all he has is this damaged replacement. His brother died, and nobody—it broke his father, it broke him, it broke Ingrid. If you’ve never seen a man bleeding out as he tries to apply first aid to a corpse, that’s. We all needed someone, and none of us could be there. It was—it’s not fair. It’s cruel, and it’s senseless. We don’t just lose the people who die, we lose the ones who are still alive. How can people live like this? Sometimes I wake up and I think, ‘fuck.’”

Dimitri looked up. The lights of the greenhouse were reflected against the glass roof, and beyond that the night yawned black and uncaring. He looked down. His plants were green, and peaceful, seemingly unmoved by the drivel he was spouting. He’d half-expected them to have withered from the onslaught, but instead they were just—there. His eyes roamed the leaves, spotting the buds of new leaves and the old ones nearing the end of their useful life. 

That, Dimitri was discovering, was what plants were like. They lived according to their own timetables and could not be hurried nor delayed. When it was time to sprout, they sprouted. When it was time to grow, they grew. If they needed water, they would wilt, and when they received the water they needed, it still took time before a change would be seen. Everything happened in accordance with some internal force, and it had very little to do with human timetables or desires. 

“But then Dedue knocks on my door, and I get up.” He reached out, touched one delicate leaf. It swayed under his touch, moving away and then back. He brushed his fingers against it, and the air filled with that green, living scent. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. It’s just that some days are hard, and some days are harder.” But some moments, Dimitri was reminded, unrolled on their own, not making any demands on him. He touched each leaf on his plants, felt the strength and fragility of them, and returned himself to his bedchamber with that green scent clinging to his skin. 

\---

_Sometimes, plants die. Other gardening manuals don’t spend much time acknowledging this, but it’s a fact. Admit it, deny it, hate it, or accept it, it will continue to be true. Since this is a manual for beginning gardeners, I wanted to address this topic with you directly._

_First of all, there’s no right or wrong way to feel when you lose a plant, or even a whole garden bed. I’ve been doing this for more than fifty years, and I’m still sometimes surprised by my own reactions. Just based on my own experience, I’ll say this: you might feel sad, or frustrated, or helpless, or you might feel nothing, or you might feel relieved. You might be angry at your plants or yourself or the sun or the soil. There’s no standard of normalcy you have to measure up against._

\---

“You never knew me before Duscur.” Neither did the professor, nor Annette, nor Ashe, nor countless others. “Neither did Dedue, really.” He looked at the— _his_ plants, silent and striving.

“You are here because of him. You are here _only_ because of him. I planted you to make a gift of you, which seems wrong, that your life isn’t simply your own, but—in truth, I think it’s _not_ enough to live only for one’s self. What kind of existence is that? We are all tangled in each other’s lives.

“If I had died in Duscur, who would have saved Dedue? If I had died after that, of my wounds perhaps, what would have become of him? He was safer with me because I was the prince.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Dimitri said. “He lost—everyone. Everyone he knew was slaughtered, his home razed, everything gone. The world he knew was gone, and he—survived. Even now, his country, his culture, their history, their gods—there is a concerted effort, in the Kingdom, to obliterate every trace of Duscur as it was.” The burning anger he felt, the rage that made Felix call him an animal, kindled as he thought of it. “It’s inhuman. It’s wrong.” When a tree was struck by lightning, the inside of it got so hot that the bark would sometimes explode off the trunk in a long strip. That’s how Dimitri felt, sometimes, like he was boiling inside, and his only options were to explode or succumb. 

He reached out and touched a stem. He was so full of roiling anger that it should have destroyed the plant, caused it to whither or explode, but it simply bent with his touch and straightened when he pulled away. The only effect seemed be the renewed, green scent of its leaves in the air.

Or maybe there was an effect after all. Perhaps all the energy that had been burning Dimitri found passage through the plant and into the uncaring earth below. 

He was sitting on his ass in the greenhouse far past midnight, and in the absence of all that fire, he felt suddenly, powerfully empty. But this emptiness, unlike the gray that sometimes weighed on him for weeks or months, sat lightly on his skin. It was thin and light as a mourner’s veil, obscuring the world but not blocking it out entirely. And in the semi-private place it created, Dimitri was aware that he was tired. His limbs, his bones, his whole body seemed to be quietly pleading for sleep. And there was, he realized as he bade the plants goodnight, no reason to deny it. He found his bed and fell into dreamless sleep.

\---

“Felix smiled today,” Dimitri said. “Not at me, obviously. He didn’t know I was there, or he’d never have smiled. The professor has him learning brawling from one the knights. He was being helped up from the ground and—I haven’t seen him smile in such a long time.” The air in the greenhouse was still, but Dimitri couldn’t help but observe that some of his plants seemed to be nodding, waiting for him to continue. “Maybe I should fight with him.” No, that was stupid. Dimtri sighed. “He used to smile more.” They all used to smile more. Dimitri breathed in, breathed out. His plants nodded in the silence. Dimitri opened his mouth, and a story from when they used to smile more poured out of him.

\---

“I asked Dedue to stop calling me ‘Your Highness,’” Dimitri reported in a tired voice. “He said…” Dimitri sighed. It was late. There was no one around. “In short, he declined.”

Dimitri stared absently at his plants. They had stopped growing. He didn’t know what that meant. 

“He used to call me ‘Dimitri,’ you know,” he said softly. “When we first met. It made me feel… Everyone started calling me ‘Your Highness,’ after what happened. I was His Highness, and I had to be because—because of what had happened. Everyone who would have called me Dimitri was dead or—or too badly hurt themselves.” Ingrid, a red-eyed ghost, crying in corners like she was afraid people would think less of her if she was caught. Felix, dry-eyed, white faced, practicing his sword until he could barely lift it to put it away. Sylvain, trying to smile and look out for them even as the bags under his eyes got worse and worse. “For months, I swear the only time I heard my own name was from his lips.” 

_Sometimes your plants might appear to be resting. With cuttings especially it’s possible—even probable—that they’re still growing, but their labor is not visible. Think about it: if your plants are devoting energy to their root systems, you wouldn’t be able to tell from the outside. Nevertheless, your plants are engaged in the difficult and important work of strengthening and expanding their root system. Recall that the roots provide water, nutrients, and stability. The role of roots in your plant’s resilience is illustrated especially vividly if you’ve ever had to pull the same weed over and over because you missed some of the roots! But, for your plants specifically, here is my advice: watch and wait. Trust your plants. They know what they’re doing. And trust yourself, dear Gardener, to be able to recognize when something is truly wrong versus when you just wish things were moving along faster._

In the emptiness of the greenhouse, Dimitri sighed. “I don’t—he’s not—I. This is going to sound bad,” he said in a quiet voice. “But I think Ingrid had something to do with it. He called me by name for months. And then—we were finally able to visit, us four, and it was all different, and it was all. And. And Ingrid was there, and Felix was there, and Sylvain was trying to hold us together but we were all hurting so badly, and then—

“When they left, Dedue started to call me Your Highness. I think that’s when it started, I really do.” He stared at his plants. Trust them. Okay. “It’s one thing if he doesn’t—doesn’t want to. Call me Dimitri. Think of me as—more than just his, his liege. That’s. I could live with that, I think. I would have to. But if he’s doing it for me, like when he warns people to stay clear of him for their own sakes, that’s—I don’t accept that. I won’t. Dedue is incredibly kind and incredibly strong. He’s—I wouldn’t—I won’t—”

His plants waited. Dimitri breathed, and the green, living scent filled his chest.

“Obligation is not enough any more. It was enough—it was too much—for a long time, but I think. Not any more. I don’t know if the resistance I’m facing is genuine or if it’s coming from outside forces, and I think I have to figure it out.” Watch and wait. Okay.

\---

“I made a fool of myself today,” Dimitri announced. “Dedue and I had kitchen duty together. Dedue offered to crack the eggs if I would whisk, but I insisted on cracking them myself. It got everywhere.” And Dedue had tried to wipe some of the yolk out of Dimitri’s hair, and he’d been standing so close, and his face was right there, and his hands were so gentle—ahem.

“My mind kept straying for the rest of the day. Dedue kept _looking_ at me, which didn’t help. He kept asking if I was feeling okay.” He tried putting his hand on Dimitri’s forehead to check for a fever. “I walked into a table and almost knocked the whole thing over.” Dimitri tucked his knees against his chest, rested his crossed arms on them.

“The last time we had kitchen duty together, I whisked. It ended up on the ceiling. I don’t understand why the Professor keeps me in the cooking rotation.” Dimitri rested his cheek on his crossed arms. 

“My mother and father used to cook together. That’s not how it’s done in the Empire, and I think it’s not done in the Alliance either, but in Faerghus, it’s normal for nobles—even the Royal Family—to cook. Food is important in Faerghus. Do you remember, a while ago, when I thought Dedue was hiding something, and it turns out he was planning a surprise for me? I thought he and Ashe were sneaking off to cook together.” Dimitri let his eyelids slide half-shut.

“ _Love speaks through food._ That’s what we’re taught. It’s so hard to get enough food, because of the winters. In Duscur, they used to have a phrase. _When words are not enough, go to the kitchen._ Dedue told me that.” Dimitri let his legs flop to one side, supported himself on one hand while reaching forward with the other. He touched the delicate leaves of the nearest plant. “I love it when he cooks for me, but I can’t taste it,” he whispered. “I haven’t tasted anything since Duscur.”

“If I was—I would have cooked for him, but I can’t taste it. It’s hard to cook if you can’t taste. _You can follow a recipe, but the most important ingredient comes from within._ My father used to say that. I always thought it was embarrassing. If there were other people in the room, they’d cover their mouths and laugh. And smile. My mother would roll her eyes, but she would smile. She smiled the most when they were in the kitchen. He would lift the spoon to her lips and ask if she could taste it, the most important ingredient.” Dimitri stroked the underside of a leaf.

“I’m sorry. In Faerghus, love speaks through food. In Duscur, there was a language of flowers. Flowers for grief, flowers for love, flowers for betrayal and hope.” He bent his head. He breathed. “Grow strong, please.”

\---

“Today was stupid.” Dimitri collapsed on the ground in front of his flowers. “It was very, very stupid. It was more stupid than that thing with Sylvain, or the kitchen mishap, or anything else. It—Goddess’s grace, is that a bud?” Dimitri leaned in. “It is! And—you too? You put them out overnight. Oh, my—well done. Very well done.” He covered his mouth, found himself smiling. “That’s very—I can’t believe you’re getting ready to flower. That is—well done.” He breathed the moment in deep, hoped it might lodge somewhere. The buds were small, yet, but they were undeniably present.

“Well, now my thing seems petty,” Dimitri said, and surprised himself by laughing. “I can’t imagine—no, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you.” 

They’d been practicing their woodcraft and gotten caught in the rain. “Felix was right, but nobody wanted to admit it. The clouds were looming all day, I’m sure you noticed.” The professor, with a blandly inoffensive expression, had insisted they complete their exercises despite the deluge. “And then, when we were finally done, she looked at us all and said, ‘Uniforms off. We’re going swimming.’ And Ashe pointed out that it was raining, and she said that was perfect because we were already soaked. And then she took off her shirt.” Dimitri sighed. “She was wearing her sauna costume, but I still think just about everyone’s heart stopped. She had all our sauna costumes, somehow, and the girls changed into theirs but Sylvain said something stupid and all the boys ended up stripping to their loincloths and swimming that way.” Dimitri covered his face and groaned.

“Dedue—Goddess forgive me. He has so many muscles. Nobody needs all those muscles. The Goddess invented extra muscles just for Dedue to have, and it was time well spent.” He laughed in disbelief.

“Also, it transpires that the professor is strong enough to throw Sylvain bodily into a lake. Ask me how I know that.” He laughed again and laid down next to his plants with an arm draped over his eyes. “And me, too, and the others. It was _fun,_ really, really fun. It was like being a child again.” He sighed. “Dedue was too big for her to throw, but it turns out that if she and Sylvain work together, they can get him airborne.” Dimitri smiled at the memory. 

“He _laughed_ —his face just _lit up,_ I’ve never seen him like that.” Dimitri sighed, a light sound. “I want to see him like that forever. I want to see him smile every day. I thought he was handsome before, but—Saint Macuil’s teeth, it was bad enough when he was just wet from the rain and his shirt was sticking to him, but shirtless and laughing? His hair came loose a little, and it—” Dimitri groaned dramatically, then laughed again.

“I’m ruined, you know. I’m absolutely ruined, and I’m never going to recover, I’m just going to see Dedue with his hair down and no shirt and the muscles and the smile—forever. Every time I close my eyes, there he is. I want to kiss him and hold his hand and hear him say my name.

“Hurry up and grow; I can’t handle this much longer. Please, please bloom soon. I need to cut off your flowers and give them to him.”

“That seems a bit harsh,” a voice said from the doorway. Dimitri yelped, jumped to his feet, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there only to face—Dedue.

“Shit,” Dimitri said. 

Dedue was staring.

“ _Shit,_ ” Dimitri said again.

Dedue kept staring.

“What are you doing here?” Dimitri managed to ask. 

“…You weren’t in your room,” Dedue said, the words coming slowly as if they were originating a long way off. “I went looking, and I heard laughter.”

“How much did you—”

“I haven’t heard you laugh like that before,” Dedue said, his words still coming from a long ways off. “I… wish to hear it again.” 

“Dedue,” Dimitri interrupted. He was surprised how soft his voice came out. “How much did you hear?” 

“I—Your Hi—Dimitri,” Dedue said, and Dimitri found himself holding his breath. “Do you really—are you sure? You wish—with me?” Dedue, strong, steady, loyal Dedue, looked—lost, and young. And—hopeful. Slowly and carefully, Dimitri extended his hand. 

“I do,” he said, voice suddenly rough, “Dedue, I—love you, and I wish to be with you. If you’ll have me.” 

“Of course,” Dedue said softly. With infinite grace, he took Dimitri’s hand. “I am yours, Your H—Dimitri. I have been for years.” Dimitri let himself be drawn forward, stepped into Dedue’s space. Dimitri’s hand found the taller man’s shoulder. Dedue’s hand hovered uncertainly at his waist. Looking up into his eyes was dizzying.

“Not as my vassal,” Dimitri made himself say. “As my equal. As my—” _love_ “—partner.” 

“I don’t know…” Dedue began softly. Dimitri felt himself stiffen, shying away from what Dedue was about to say. The hand that had been hesitating at his waist settled firmly, tugged him closer. “I’ll try. Dimitri. Are you sure you want a man from Duscur?”

“I only want you,” Dimitri said honestly. Dedue sighed, the sound heavy with sorrow, and cupped Dimitri’s face tenderly.

“We cannot be equals, Your Highness. Not in this world.” Dimitri’s hand balled into a fist on Dedue’s shoulder.

“We’ve had this conversation,” he said fiercely. “Your answer to me doesn’t matter, not for that. I’m building a new Kingdom, one where those of Duscur are treated equally with everyone else. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard it is.” He watched Dedue shut his eyes, breathe deeply. Dedue opened his eyes. 

“You cannot do it alone,” Dedue said. “You will need allies. Supporters. People at your side. I will be one of them—your vassal, at first, in public, and someday—”

“—Someday, not my vassal. My equal.” Dimitri said. “And in private?” Dedue lifted his hand, kissed his knuckles.

“Yours. Just yours.” Dimitri opened his mouth, but Dedue continued, “And you will be mine,” and smiled. Dimitri smiled back. How could he not? 

It would be hard, but they had survived worse. In fact, building something—coaxing something new into existence—was the kind of difficult one could almost look forward to.

“I’ll be your Dimitri?” he suggested. Dedue smiled, tipped their heads together. 

“You’ll be my Dimitri, and I’ll be your Dedue,” he agreed. He grinned, “And I’ll take my hair down for you, too, if you want.” Dimitri laughed softly.

“So you heard that part.” 

“And I heard you laugh, and I’ll hear it again,” Dedue said. “Shall I kiss you?” Dimitri’s face almost ached from smiling.

“Yes please, dedarling.” Dedue snorted softly, and Dimitri laughed again. In the airy space of the greenhouse, Dedue kissed his forehead, his nose, and finally his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> "De-darling" is pronounced with the same initial syllable as "Dedue."  
> Comments are a joy, I read (and reread) every single one <3


End file.
